


Fleurs du Mal

by Raquiesha



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-08-14 12:56:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20192665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raquiesha/pseuds/Raquiesha
Summary: Follow Triss and Philippa over the years.The world around them changes and, unavoidably, so will they.But for the better or for the worse?- This is not abandoned as I am currently rewriting this! Stay tuned :-)





	1. Chapter 1

Her heart was on fire.

Triss held the letter tightly, her knuckles whitening, afraid of losing it to the wind. She panted as she ran, pressing the other hand against her burning chest. It burned, yes, but it burned most pleasantly. It was a flame of hope that flickered inside her. 

For years she had longed for this very moment, and now; just when she had been prepared to give up and stop believing, it happened. Triss could almost not fathom it. Yennefer’s words were, after all, true.

_ Never lose hope, Triss, _ she heard Yen's voice echo in her mind. _ Never. _

It was those words that were the sole reason to why Triss, beaming with happiness, hurried to Yennefer’s rented room. She had to be the first to know. 

One light foot after another tapped against the cobbled streets. She opened a door and the ground changed. The feet were now clapping against rough wood that was in need of being oiled and sprew with fresh straws. 

The innkeeper shook his bald head as she sprinted past him, almost tackling the plump barmaid who balanced a plate with ale and mead. And, while the bard did not stop plucking his lute or singing his dulcet tones, for a mere moment, he allowed his gaze to follow the flaming whirlwind that passed him, disappearing up the stairs. 

Triss threw Yennefer’s door open without knocking, knowing her older friend already felt her presence. When she entered the room she, just as Triss had suspected, sat gracefully in front of the mirror brushing her hair, expecting her. 

“Yen”, she said in a gasp after slamming the heavy wooden door closed with more force than needed, “you won’t believe what just happened!”

“Hello to you too, Triss”, Yennefer greeted, turning around to her, with a raised brow and a dignified smile. Her lilac eyes shimmered. She laid down her silver brush softly and gestured to the piece of parchment Triss held in her hand. “Am I right in assuming that what you have there is the reason why you are so excited?”

Triss nodded fiercely, almost unable to speak. She tugged one of the many fleeing strands of hair from her eyes behind her ear, a motion that made her seem younger than she was. 

“The rumors you spoke of were true!”, she then sing-sang with the happiness of a child. The end of Yennefer’s lips twitched at that, and she rose up and moved to sit on the edge of her bed. Yennefer patted the seat next to her. 

“Come here, Triss.”

Triss took another deep breath in hope of trying to calm her racing heart. With almost dancing steps she moved closer to Yennefer before she fell down on the bed. The old frame creaked unhappily.

“Philippa Eilhart wishes to have me as a leashed sorceress!”

A brawl from the tavern downstairs caught their attention, but when it silenced, Yennefer laid her eyes on the parchment.

“May I?”, Yennefer asked.

Triss hummed as she handed her the letter, almost reluctant to let go of it. The older sorceress skimmed through the short and concise text that indeed stated that Philippa Eilhart wished to have Triss as an apprentice.

“Mhm.” Yennefer handed the letter back to its owner. “Congratulations are in order, my friend. You must have lived up to her standards”.

“It’s unbelievable!” Triss exclaimed with accompanying vivid gestures, her tie releasing another lock. But soon, doubt must have struck Triss' mind, because her hands sank to her knees and the curl of her lips turned down. She still held the letter in a firm grip. “I can’t believe she wants me, of all people”.

Triss’ voice dulled and Yennefer let her hand gently caress Triss’ arm. She did not pity her; most sorcerers and sorceresses had deep and scarring memories that haunted them, including herself. Yennefer swallowed as she for a short second allowed herself to remember her own childhood. She breathed out lightly. Her entire family was since long gone from this world. 

Triss sniffled, and Yennefer broke free from her thoughts. She pulled back her hand from Triss’ back, and put it on the mattress and sighed. 

Even though she did not pity Triss, she could not allow her to be bereaved on this day of joy. Yennefer quirked a brow, watching as Triss dragged the back of her hand beneath her snotty nose.

It was however almost so that she pitied Philippa instead. It would take her a lot of work to make Triss presentable in the courts. Yennefer felt the ends of her lips twitch and wondered if her eyes sparkled as she thought of Philippa pulling her own hair in frustration. 

“Now, now”, Yennefer said softly, clasping her hands in her own, ignoring the snot that probably harbored on Triss’ hands. “Do not doubt yourself.”

Yennefer decided not to tell Triss that it, in reality, was she who had insinuated to Philippa that Triss Merigold, with the right guidance, one day could become a powerful sorceress. 

Philippa had certainly not disappointed. Yennefer smothered a victorious smile. She had swallowed the bait just as expected, not one to let go of such an opportunity, especially not one Yennefer of Vengerberg deemed bright. To have been the mentor to a powerful sorceress was, in fact, something one could draw use of.

And Philippa Eilhart was a woman who made sure to take every advantage she could.

Yennefer looked sympathetically at Triss while suppressing a sigh. She knew that Triss had hoped that she was the one to take her under her wing. Alas, Yennefer had no such wish. She already had enough to do on her own being free from the Brotherhood, and to have an apprentice was no small task.

“One day you will become one of the greatest enchantresses there is, I am sure”, Yennefer continued, letting her thumb caress Triss’ freckled hands. “Philippa must have seen that when you met”.

“She is a polymorph”, Triss breathed out, astounded by that one of the world’s few shapeshifters expressed a wish to take her into her home. “What… What do you think she sees in me?”

If it was not Philippa Eilhart they were discussing, Yennefer could have deflected any further questions by answering something in tune with ‘your good heart’. But, since it indeed was Philippa Eilhart, Yennefer had to tell her friend the truth. She hindered a grimace from contorting her countenance. 

“Except for your strong aura?” Yennefer carefully studied Triss' expression as she continued, forcing herself not to read her friend’s mind as she revealed the truer reason; “I believe, your body.”

Triss' freckled face reddened, and Yennefer could not hold back a smirk from curling her painted lips.

“Why the surprised face, Triss? You are, after all, not a stranger to the rumors surrounding her.”

“… No”, Triss admitted shyly. “I am not. But do you really think that she… I mean –“

“I do not think, I know.” Yennefer’s voice grew sharper. “Philippa is… Philippa”. Her tone softened when she saw Triss’ lips press into a thin line as realization set in. “You should maybe take some time to consider this”.

Triss' head hanged slightly as she fiddled with the parchment in her hand.

Yennefer glanced out the window. The sun had set and dusk settled, and she lit a candle with a graceful flick of her wrist. The flame worriedly danced on the wick until it calmed down.

“Well?” Yennefer asked, when Triss had been quiet for a moment, contemplating her options. 

Triss had turned her face towards the flame and watched intensely on a drop of wax that slowly flowed down the candle.

“I don’t have to ‘consider’ anything”, Triss finally said. Her voice did not seem to fully agree with her, as it trembled nervously as she spoke. “I have decided. Already before I entered this room, I had decided. I can be more than I currently am, and since you don’t want to teach me and since Aretuza never wanted to have me, this is what I got to do”. Triss shook her head. “It can’t be that hard, can it?”

Yennefer pinched the bridge of her nose. _ Oh, Triss Merigold _ , she thought to herself, _ you are a naïve creature. _

“Are you prepared to fully commit yourself to this -- to her? You have met Philippa. She is a force to be reckoned with, and you can't just leave if you... don't approve of her”.

“I know”, Triss said and sighed, rubbing her arm. “But she can teach me how to become better”.

“That… she can.” _ Probably in more ways than you can imagine _. “Do you want me to call her and tell her that you accept?”

“Could you do that for me?”, Triss wondered with a suddenly weakened voice. Her gut twisted. What if Philippa Eilhart had changed her mind?

_ No _ . Triss felt her heart pace increasing, and she closed her eyes. _ Philippa Eilhart is not the kind of woman who simply changed her mind _. That Triss knew. Like a bird of prey, Philippa never let go of the goal she had in sight, as soon her predatory mood had set in. Her competitiveness, her ambition - it was purely instinctual. 

Yennefer nodded slowly as she rose up and walked towards her megascope. She glanced at Triss over her shoulder, her eyes soft. “I would like to speak with her by myself, so if you--?”

She did not even have to finish her sentence before Triss had left the room.

*

Triss folded the letter and used its edges to clean the dirt that had assembled beneath her fingernails. Her feet tapped rhythmically against the floor, and she did her best not to wander back and forth in the hall. She sensed that Yennefer had cast a silent spell over the room, a sensation turned into fact since not a sound traveled through the thin walls.

It annoyed her more than she could express in mere words.

Triss hoped, by the length of Yen's and Philippa's conservation, that they also spoke about matters regarding the Council and not only her.

She closed her eyes. It was too late to back out now. She thought about the enchanting woman with dark hair and eyes black as night; the woman who spoke with a voice that demanded to be heard.

_ Will I be enough? _ She balled her hands into fists and unintentionally crumpled the letter she held. _ I have to. This is my only chance. _

She jumped as the door she leaned against opened. Yennefer peeked out. 

“You should pack your bags, Triss”, Yennefer said, her smile wide. “Because tomorrow we are going to Redania”.


	2. Chapter 2

Philippa Eilhart was many things.

A renowned sorceress. A successful scientist in the arcane arts. A pioneer and one of the cornerstone members in the Supreme Council of Sorcerers. A most loyal advisor to King Vizimir II of Redania. The Lady of Montecalvo. A faithful believer (at least in herself). 

Not necessarily put in that order.

One thing she, on the other hand, refused to call herself was a liar. Not because she, if she somehow was forced to admit it, was not.

She just preferred to use other traits to describe such a simple word. And she was by no means simple.

Ambitious. Cunning. Merciless.

Yes, they were much better - more descriptive than the foul word, ‘liar’. What a sad, pathetic word to choose when thousands of others existed in the big, beautiful world they resided in.

When Yennefer first had told Philippa of Triss Merigold of Maribor, she at first was not interested. Philippa Eilhart was a predator, one who lurked in the protective high vegetation, seeking her prey. For now, however, she was not hungry. A bitter smile creased her lips as she awaited her new protégée’s arrival. 

She had not had a sorceress bound to her in a long time. They rarely blossomed into their true potential, instead, they withered under the weight of magi. 

But Triss Merigold, she soon learned, had just as a striking aura as Yennefer of Vengerberg had promised. And while Philippa Eilhart would not sink as low as to verbally appreciate Triss Merigold’s striking body, she certainly did so silently.

Philippa was a tad bit competitive – that she could admit (to some extent). And that was the reason why the breathing portal emerged in front of her, spitting out the forms of Yennefer and her young friend, before disappearing in a whim.

“Yennefer,” Philippa greeted with two air kisses, “how pleasant. I sincerely hope your travel fared well”.

“Thank you for asking, Phil.” Yennefer responded the kisses. “It did. The portal luckily did us the favor not splitting us into halves.”

“Yes, that I actually can see”, Philippa answered, but her eyes were not directed at her. She had sent Triss a glance, and while her gaze returned to Yennefer’s in an instant, Yennefer knew that Philippa had drunk the sight of Triss in one, large swig. “It gladdens me.”

An outsider could come to believe that the two full-fledged sorceresses were friends. That was, he would soon come to understand, not the case. Yennefer of Vengerberg and Philippa Eilhart were far from friends.

They did not share many opinions or views, but they both recognized a powerful sorceress when they saw one. Since both of them were part of the Council, they were forced to work together, and in one way or another, they had come to respect each other. Well – they held some kind of respect for one another, at least. 

Philippa smothered a wan smirk. Yennefer of Vengerberg was not a saint, but neither was she. The world they lived in and the circumstances that harbored in it drove them together, and it had forced them both to gain certain… traits. Manipulation was one of many ways to get what they wanted, and Philippa was well-aware that Yennefer was great at it – almost more talented than herself.

“I hoped a certain Geralt of Rivia would accompany you, Yenna. I cannot wait until I get the chance to meet this fabled man. Alas, I fear he would not live up to his reputation. Coral speaks highly of him, but we both know she is… easy to please. Not like you and me”.

Philippa quirked a questioning brow and Yennefer’s jaw clenched for a short moment. It did, however, not take long until Yennefer regained control over her facial features, and her tensed muscles relaxed.

“Not this time”, Yennefer answered with slightly thinned lips. Philippa could tell from Yennefer’s pulsating aura that this was a highly sensitive subject. It pleased her mightily to have stepped on a sore toe. “Instead I have brought you your new protégée”.

Philippa nodded slowly, as if she had forgotten about the young, freckled woman. Soon she set her night-black eyes on Triss’ cornflower blue. They glittered in the most naïve of colors. Philippa let her painted lips curl in a slight smile. She could not wait to shadow them. “Triss Merigold, I am absolutely thrilled you accepted my invitation.”

“It is I who should thank you, Lady Montecalvo.”

Triss’ flickering eyes sought Yennefer’s gaze, and Yennefer nodded approvingly. She had greeted alright, and not forgotten about calling Philippa by her title. Now Triss was completely on her own, and Yennefer’s heart ached for her. 

_ Tell me. Was it wrong of me to orchestrate this accord? _

Philippa would probably break Triss before gluing together the shattered pieces, and Yennefer could only hope that none of the pieces would disappear in the process.

_ “Then I can tell you, that you have done perfectly.” _

Yennefer tensed as Philippa’s glittering eyes locked with hers, before returning to Triss. 

“Mistress to you, pet”, Phillipa corrected and stepped toward her, letting a hand brush the ties. “And if you accept your place at my side -- and it is not easily done, since it will be a bond not easily broken, my first instruction to you is that you remove those ghastly ties. Wear your hair down, Triss Merigold of Maribor. You are no longer a small little girl stuck in a tower. No. If you are truly prepared to accept this contract, you will be free from all but me. Bound to me in magic and flesh. Serve me well, and I can grant you more than you ever wished for. An absolute and complete freedom -- even from me.”

Triss’ eyes widened and she stuttered as she spoke, startled by the woman’s sudden change in demeanor, “But…” She silenced and pulled off the ties immediately, her cheeks colored. 

Philippa clicked with her tongue. “Tsk. You forgot something. Speak correctly, and I will honor you with an answer”

When Triss only stood quiet, her shoulders shivering, Philippa sighed heavily. She now doubted this as much as Yennefer, but for entirely different reasons.

“Mistress’”, Philippa amended firmly and felt Yennefer’s disapproving look.

Triss swallowed hard, her eyes downcast. “I am sorry, mistress”.

Philippa smiled to herself as she put a finger beneath Triss’ chin, raising it. She did not need to doubt the young sorceress' abilities. Restrained magic danced behind her eyes. This Triss would be a fine specimen to train. A lapdog that, in time, would turn into a leashed beast if she continued being this obedient.

“Now, do not speak more than you absolutely have to. Save your pretty mouth for later, and my ears from aging.” Philippa curled her lips into a saccharine smile as she yet again met Yennefer’s eyes. “Dear, dear Yennefer. Would you like to stay for a meal? You will never know when it is the last.”

“I would love to, Philippa”, Yennefer responded. Her, also painted, lips were no longer thinned into a line, but mirrored the smile Philippa had. It was nice, Philippa thought, having a dinner partner who matched her. “I expect to be served nothing else but the best - and no illusions, this time.”

Philippa tilted her head. "Says you, of all people, who should know that life is nothing more than just that".

She intended that her new pet learned it as well. 


	3. Chapter 3

“Go on. You must remember that your powers do not make you special, Merigold”.

Triss stared incredulously at Philippa, her heart skipping a beat. She had never thought of herself as better than those without magic. In fact, she had wished she had not been born with it, and had as a youngster cried herself to sleep more than once. 

And now the devious woman she was leashed to, who was supposed to teach her how to become a better enchantress - how to control and further accept her fate - wanted her to do the wash the dishes.

Triss felt tears she refused to give in to burn behind her eyes. She had been more deceived and humiliated in less than a day after Yennefer’s departure, than in her entire life.

_ I should not have come here. _

Triss shuddered as Philippa’s cold eyes met her’s, and she remembered her place. Swiftly she turned her eyes down at her feet. Feet was much safer to look at, Triss quickly decided, and continued staring at her boots. 

“Dishes, mistress? Are -- Are you sure?”, she asked quietly and pretended she was alone, talking to her boots, rather than the intimidating woman.

Triss should not have questioned her. A quick and not very bold glance revealed that the woman’s cold eyes had turned into glaciers.

“Yes”, was Philippa’s curt answer. Her voice was hard and stern, and Triss hated the sound of it. Why had Yennefer not discouraged her from accepting the invitation? “Are you disobeying me, Merigold?”

Triss merely shook her head and backed out of Philippa’s office, closed the door behind her before hurrying down the stairs to the kitchen quarters, almost fearing for her own life. As she scrubbed the plates and cutlery free from stains her only thoughts were that she wished she was back home, or at least that she could see one friendly face among the many unfriendly. None of the kitchen maids paid any attention to her presence, knowing she did not belong there with them. 

Or belonged there at all. She was a sorceress, just as the unlikeable lady they worked for - not because they wanted to, but because they needed. Most of them hoped for another witch hunt, and Triss despised the disgusted looks they sent her.

“She’s the lady’s new pet”, she overheard one of them say in a half-whisper.

“Pet?”, one another scoffed – this one did not try to whisper at all. “More like her _ whore _”.

After a week of nothing else but cleaning plates and receiving fatal glares she had had enough. She would not stand being treated like this. She was worth more.

Ire drowned any sadness Triss might have felt, and without hesitation (not much, anyway) she stormed to Philippa’s office. She was tired of this charade, and if nothing else, those she had to work with. She wanted to leave this awful place and go back to Yennefer.

Philippa sat in her leather chair and went through a pile of papers, casually leaning her forehead against her hand. She did not bother to send the steaming Triss a look.

“Yes, Merigold? What do you want now?”

Triss stood still by the door, one hand grasping the knob.

“Why?” she demanded after what felt like an eternity – for Philippa of boredom, and Triss fear, “Why are you doing this?”

Philippa sighed and finally angled her head in Triss’ direction. What she saw made her tilt her head and a ghost of a smile crept upon her lips. Her apprentice’s fiery hair stood in all directions and her cheeks were as glowing. The apron she don was full of stains, both with food and water not yet dried.

She looked wonderful, and Philippa had waited for this day.

“I refuse to continue working with them! They are awful!” Triss cried out when Philippa sat quiet, studying her. The ire began to subside and make room for her humiliation and homesickness. “They give me looks and gossip about me. I want more! I am here because I want to learn how to be more like Yennefer, or God forbid, _ you _. Not how to wash the dishes as fast as possible without using magic!” 

“Is it so?” Philippa asked calmly while Triss gathered her breath, leaning back in her chair. “Do you think you are better than them? Are you better than those who clean the plates you eat from?”

“Yes.” Triss hissed. She straightened her back and let go of the doorknob. “I am a sorceress and if you won’t teach me how to further improve my abilities, I will find someone who will!”

“Good,” Philippa answered. “I cannot believe it took you a week to realize this. It must be a new record.”

She studied her pile of responsibilities. In the morning she had to leave for King Vizimir and his trusting queen. But for now, she could take some time off and spend it on Triss. “Go and make yourself presentable, Merigold. You look horrible, and my apprentices must have a certain… poise. I have standards and a reputation to uphold, as you might understand. I will send a maid to your chambers.”

When Philippa returned her gaze to the woman in front of her, she noticed that Triss had blanched, but a proud tilt to her jaw told Philippa that this conversation was not yet over.

“One more thing before I go, mistress”, Triss said. She must have calmed down and – finally – remembered her place.

“Mmh?”

“Don’t call me Merigold. I hate it”.

“Ah, yes. Yennefer told me so,” she said. “That is why I do it, Merigold. You are a sweet creature when upset. But I will be so kind and stop if you say the magic words.”

Triss nervously rubbed her forehead before answering. “Please, don’t call me Merigold, mistress.”

“That is better, Triss. You are learning. Now go, and I will soon give you your next lesson”.

*

“Control yourself, Triss”. Philippa stood with her hands clasped around her back, clad in gold-embroidered men’s clothes. “Your heart is nothing more than a beating organ. Do not let your emotions get the better of you.”

The portal flickered and disappeared into thin air. Triss fell down on her knees, panting. Not even a simple, traceable portal, she could uphold.

_ What am I even doing here? _

“Why, mistress, can I not learn something else first?”, Triss asked, her hands splayed across the cold stone floor. 

Philippa did not move to help her up. “Because it is crucial to be able to conjure portals that have the courtesy not to maim you. If you had been loved enough for someone to pay your fees, it would have been one of the first things Aretuza would have taught you.”

Triss raised her eyes, her chest heaving. “But why?”

Philippa let a finger drum against her bottom lip, before responding. “Historical reasons. A girl from a tower ought to know that. How else would a sorceress be able to escape her own execution?”

“Now,” Philippa continued, her voice sharp, ”get up and come here.”

Triss forced herself to raise up. Her knees shivered and her shoulders were sore and stiff. Close to hobbling, she closed the distance to her mentor. She stopped right in front of her. 

Triss gasped, as Philippa suddenly clasped her cheeks, staring into her eyes. 

“Tell me your dreams and nightmares, Triss. If you refuse, I will look into your soul myself.”

Triss jerked away. “No.” 

“No?” Philippa shook her head, a smile tugging her lips. “Do you not understand? I am the one who makes the rules here. How else am I to teach you, if you do not let me see who you are? Your deepest desires, your fears.”

“I will,” Triss said, her hands quivering like an aspen in the wind. “But not yet.” She swallowed, before adding, “mistress.”

Philippa stood quiet, regarding her. This was not the first time Triss wished she could read minds.

“Well, pet. Why do you not instead show me what you can do, then?” 

*

Philippa, it turned out, was a more gifted teacher than Triss could have believed. She asked questions and let Triss try to find the answers on her own. When learning her a new skill or spell, Philippa showed first what to do, before leaving Triss alone to herself finish the task, no matter how long it took. While Triss often grew frustrated and impatient, sitting and trying to solve the given task, eventually she learned. 

“Like a spoiled princess, you wait for someone to rescue you. This will not happen... if you are not Yennefer, at least.” Philippa huffed, before continuing, “You need to be the prince in this... _ fairy tale _, and save yourself. I will not always be there to have your back, you see. Not even I am immortal, no matter how much I wish for it. Wishes, Triss, do not take us anywhere. Only action does”.

Triss would lie if she said that she initially agreed with everything Philippa said, but she was very convincing. She spoke with a conviction and with an energy seldom seen. Even the king listened to her, and Philippa had stressed out the importance of rhetoric.

“My aim for you is not for you to become, let’s say, ‘the greatest sorceress of this age’. It is clear as crystal that you won’t be.” When Philippa saw the disappointment contorting her face, she smiled wanly. “Do not let your lip tremble over such a mundane thing. You do not have the guts for battle or the mind for delicate scheming. And it is fine, Triss. You see life, and you control life. What is a battle if not people chanting for a better life? How many plants do not have the ability to grant healing or death? Has the fauna not a heart that can be stilled?”

“My aim for you is that you become an… advisor, for a regnant. We sorceresses shall rule this land, Triss. And we shall do so greatly. No, no, do not interrupt me. In all frankness, I do not care about Yennefer’s opinion. Neither shall you. Decide your opinions for yourself.”

“Sorry, mistress, but I merely wonder. You are already King Vizimir’s advisor”, Triss asked, “and also a part of the Council. What more can you do? What more can I do?”

“Triss, Triss, Triss.” Philippa smacked with her tongue, gesturing into the air. “You must think big enough. What more can I not do, and what more can you not do, are questions easier to answer. If we unite, we can rule anything -- everything, even. I will be the King and you will be my Queen”, Philippa smirked. “The world is nothing without us mages. And it is time people will know this.” Her eyes narrowed. “It is about time.”

Triss felt her cheeks heat -- it was the first jesting Philippa had uttered in her presence, and suddenly she remembered Yennefer’s warning. Philippa Eilhart was a philanderer, a lady lover, yet she had not done any approaches. Triss stiffened at the realization.

Not because she necessarily wanted to be with Philippa – she was a woman, for God’s sake – but she had been tiptoeing around her for the last months, awaiting an approach. _ Maybe I am not appealing enough? Maybe Philippa thinks that I am not yet worthy? _

Triss had to admit that Philippa was tantalizing. It did not matter that she treated her as a lesser being – Triss accepted that she had a lot to learn – but the way Philippa spoke hypnotized her. It often was the other way around, but with Philippa Eilhart, it seemed as if her black irises were less stormy and more at peace whenever she talked about her desires.

If they now were desires. Triss had learned the hard way during the weeks that Philippa could not always be trusted. Small tricks and deceiving whispers, all to teach her to stand on her own legs. 

It was not easy for Triss to accept that freckles were not a measurement of innocence, as so many had told her. Philippa Eilhart’s bridge of the nose was covered in freckles, and she was certainly not innocent. 

_ And I won’t be for long, either. _

One day Triss had caught herself trying to count the small dots, but luckily, Philippa’s stern voice had awakened her from her reverie.

Triss assumed that Philippa was a visually attractive woman. She had not really thought about women in that way before, but it was at the same time hard not to, when for a short moment, Philippa’s eyes gleamed and her face softened whenever she looked out a window before putting the firm mask back on.

Maybe it was simply because Triss awed the woman who had taught her how to safely put up a portal, on showing her healing potions and forced her to meditate hour after hour.

_ I don’t even know myself. What are my dreams and nightmares? My desires and fears? _

_ Will I ever find out? _


	4. Chapter 4

”Get down on your knees”.

Triss’ heart pounded hard against her chest. She held her gaze downwards, and the familiar whip stared at her. The strip of leather dangled back and forth, brushing the floor as if it cleaned it. Triss bit her lip.

She was about to be punished. She was, just as the floor, about to become cleansed.

She deserved it.

“Yes, mistress”.

Triss was not able to keep her voice straight. It quivered slightly, and her breathing became uneven.

Another sign of weakness.

Her bare knees fell down onto the rough wood. Pearls of sweat ran down her neck as she dared to raise her head and look up onto the sorceress before her. Philippa’s night black eyes almost seemed to glow in the dim of the room.

She was in her right element. Triss had to turn her cheek away.

“Look at me”.

Triss swallowed hard.

“Look at me”, Philippa repeated firmly. “Look at me when you tell me what went wrong today”.

*

Triss closed her eyes as she remembered the day’s events. It was the second time Philippa had allowed her to follow her to Redania’s court, to eerily stand in the shadows and watch as Philippa whispered in King Vizimir’s ear.

Philippa Eilhart had King Vizimir II and Queen Hedwig of Malleore wrapped around her fingers, and Triss came soon to understand that it was with nothing more than a snap of her fingers she could break them.

In the other end of the room a man by the name of Sigismund Dijkstra stood, watching her intensely as Vizimir II and Philippa talked. Triss did not like the obese man or the leering looks he sent. Philippa rarely spoke of him, but from what Triss had heard, he and Philippa shared a past as well as a place in the King’s council.

Triss had longed back to the laboratory in Castle Montecalvo. Yes, she enjoyed the flair the royal estate offered, but she could barely take any advantage of it. She was confined to the shadows, ordered to observe without interfering or interrupting in any way. Once or twice when no one saw, she let her hands follow the contours of a gilded frame or heavy, beautifully carved bureau. But this time she could not even do that.

Count Dijkstra followed her every movement, and it made her nervous. She did not like being watched. 

A child’s cry was heard behind one of the doors, and Philippa paused in the middle of a sentence. Her eyes sparkled with irritation, and Triss could have sworn a bolt of lightning erupted from them when the door was opened by a wee child. The old nursemaid muttered something unintelligible as she grabbed the child by the arm and was ready to exit the room and leave the King and his Council to themselves.

“No, no”, Vizimir said softly with a small smile gracing his looks. He got up from his chair and hunkered down, with his arms out. The nursemaid immediately let go of the harsh grip, and the child ran into her father’s arms.

“Dear Dalimira”, Vizimir cooed and soon another child stood in the doorway. “Come, Radovid, there is room for you too”, the King said to the other child.

Triss was surprised by the gentleness Vizimir showed his children, and a lump of envy began to grow in her chest. She would have done anything to get the same kind of love from a parent. Triss let a hand caress her barren abdomen. Never would she give birth to a child.

The biggest curse of being a sorceress was undoubtedly infertility. 

Philippa, on the other hand, did not appreciate the interruption. Not at all. She could not understand why people would even want children. They were – mildly put, annoying. It did not matter that these children were Prince Radovid, heir to the Redonian throne, or Princess Dalimira.

“Your Majesty, we were in the middle of our talks”, Philippa said as carefully she could. “May we proceed?”

Vizimir did not answer as one of the children said something for his ears alone. He laughed, a deep, rumbling sound, before he stood up and shook his head.

“No, lady Philippa, we may not. We shall continue our conversation in the morn”.

Philippa sent a glare in Sigismund’s direction, hoping to get some support. He leaned against the wall, ignoring her entirely. He probably enjoyed seeing Philippa lose every once and then.

“This is important, Your Majesty”, she insisted coldly. She no longer tried to sound calm and understanding. “It cannot be delayed!”

Vizimir froze and his jaw clenched. “It can. This time, it can”.

Philippa narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth before closing it again. She was defeated, and if she was not careful, she could risk losing her seat of power.

“As you –“

“Your Majesty have beautiful children”, a low voice said from the shadows, interrupting Philippa. She had almost forgotten about Triss. “It is good of Your Majesty to spend time with them”.

The redhead stepped out from the shadows, inclining her head in reverence. It was the first time she spoke with the king, and he smiled kindly – albeit a bit taken aback – at her.

“Yes…”

“Mistress Triss Merigold of Maribor”, Sigismund Dijkstra helped, smirking. Philippa resisted the urge to ball her hands into fists. “She is Lady Philippa’s protégée”.

Vizimir nodded slowly, holding his children’s hands. “You have got hold of a clever one”, Vizimir said to Philippa before he left the room.

“I certainly have”, Philippa intoned. “I certainly have”.

*

“You brought me shame at the Court”, Philippa said softly, with the whip gently caressing the flustered skin on Triss’ cheek. “It is laughable, even, that I thought I could trust you. Maybe I have told you too much, given you a too long of a leash”.

“You can trust me, mistress”, Triss breathed as she pledged for her mistress' forgiveness. “Please! I swear. It will never happen again”.

“You have already promised me that.” Philippa leaned down and grabbed her wet chin between her index finger and thumb, lifting it. “Have you not?” 

“I will never bring shame over you again, mistress”, Triss sniffled. She reached out a hand and grabbed Philippa’s ankle. “Never”.

*

The laboratory stood in flames. Servants ran back and forth with buckets filled with water, trying to kill the living fire. Triss sat on the bed in her room, crying and feeling miserable. She had been at the castle for three months and she had done everything she could to get Philippa Eilhart’s approval.

The reason to why the laboratory was ruined was futile. It should have been clear to Triss from the start that Philippa Eilhart was a woman that did not complement, yet she had tried to do her best to impress her.

If only she had not read about how to make the powder… If only she could understand what went wrong.

The window stood open, in hope of ventilating the room of the smell of smoke. Triss jumped as the sound of fluttering wings closed in, and an owl entered the room. Triss knew right away who it was. The transformation from bird of prey to human was seamless, but Triss saw that the owl’s vigilant gaze still had not left the woman.

“Oh, my. What have you done, dear Triss? Set my home on fire? Hm?”

Her voice was sweet as sugar, but Triss suspected this was only the beginning of something she was not prepared for.

Philippa took a step forward, and Triss winced. The older woman smelled of wet feathers and smoke.

“The fire has been taken care of…”, Philippa said in a low, honeyed voice. “So now I can concentrate on you”.

Philippa now stood in front of Triss, and she played with her protégée’s flaming lock of hair. It felt like silk in her hands, and Philippa took a short breath.

It had been a long time since she had done this.

Triss looked up at her with sad, blue eyes that held the ocean itself in them.

Philippa stroked the woman’s cheek. Warm tears got stuck on her fingertips. Only one thought crossed Philippa’s mind, and it was that Triss Merigold was indescribably beautiful.

Philippa smiled as she fetched her whip.

Yes, Triss Merigold was both beautiful and intelligent. The whole castle smelled of smoke and it would take months to get the odor away and rebuild the laboratory.

She was brave and curious, and Philippa knew that they were the reasons to why the laboratory no longer existed. Great minds had the largest of setbacks.

Triss was truly a flame in all senses, and she deserved her entire attention.

*

“Do you plead your loyalty to me, my nestling? To me and no one else?”

“I do, mistress.” Triss’ voice broke. “I am yours”.

“You are more than an item that can belong in someone’s possession -- even mine. The heart, Triss, is a most treacherous organ”.

The tip of Triss’ nose was burning red from sadness. “It... It is not my heart I am offering”. She unsteadily got up from her kneeling position, and Philippa watched the scene with piquet interest. 

With unsteady hands, she began to unbutton her shirt and slowly she let it fall down to the floor. Philippa draw a deep breath as Triss’ body was uncovered, clothing by clothing.

“I am offering all but my heart. My hands are yours to control”.

With newly gained confidence Triss closed the distance between them. Her cheeks were still damp from the tears that had fallen, but her eyes had a glister Philippa earlier had not seen in her.

“... And my body is yours to take”.

Philippa felt her pulsating heart beat against her chest, and she let go of the whip. It fell on the floor, and Triss had moved so that they stood nose against nose.

“Do not betray me, puppet”, she whispered huskily.

Philippa’s breath tickled Triss’ skin.

“I would rather die… Philippa”.

A smile tugged her lip, but it was smothered by Triss’ soft, demanding lips. Triss stomach fluttered, as Philippa's palm stroked her damp cheek. She felt victorious. Adrenaline pumped through her veins as their kisses got hungrier.

Philippa pulled back from their embrace, and as she began to untie the laces on Triss' clothes, Triss realized that this was the first time they kissed as equals. 


	5. Chapter 5

“So you are still asleep”. Philippa’s voice held an underlying tone of annoyance, as if she was mighty disappointed by the fact that some people actually prioritized their sleep. “You better hurry”.

Triss blinked, bewildered by her abrupt awakening. Her window was slightly open, and the damp air revealed that it had rained during the night. She should have lit the hearth before going to bed. Smothering a yawn, she dragged her quilt tighter around her as her skin prickled from the chilly air. Soon she managed to focus her of sleep blurry vision on the onyx-haired woman at her door. Philippa was already properly dressed, and her brushed hair flowed down her shoulders. 

Her eyes were set on the window, as always when she pondered her thoughts. Her facial expression left no clues to what it was that was happening -- but something was undoubtedly happening, that Triss knew. 

Usually, she woke up by herself or, on rare occasions, by a faint rapping at the door by one of Philippa’s many servants. Never by the lady of the manor herself. No -- this was in fact the first time Philippa had been in her chamber at dawn.

She had never overstayed her nocturnal visits.

“Either something dire or something extremely exciting is afoot, Triss… Ah, maybe both, even?”.

First now Philippa turned her gaze towards Triss, and a brow quirked upwards as she studied the younger woman. Triss’ unruly hair stood in all directions, and her eyes were puffy from sleep. If it had not been for the gloomy morning sky, the sun rays would have illuminated her form in a most spectacular way. 

“I have my suspicions”, she continued, and let her gaze return to the landscape outside the window. If her suspicions were right, the lack of sun would be most fitting. “King Vizimir demands my immediate presence, and I would like for you to come with. If I am correct, you will need to hear this first hand”. She prepared herself to leave and gave Triss a last look over her shoulder. “You know where to find me”. 

With that, her mentor disappeared, and Triss almost pinched herself to make sure she had not dreamt it. But, instead of wasting any more time, she got up and frowned as her bare feet met the cold floor. She closed the window before swiftly yanking her nightgown off of her. A quick look in the mirror told her that Philippa would have to wait a bit longer than expected.

A small smile graced Triss’ lips. 

Philippa would not like that, and Triss looked forward to the punishment. 

*

“You should have told me this”. Philippa stared coldly at Sigismund Dijkstra. He calmly met her eyes, not averting his gaze. The master of shadows knew her better than anyone, and Philippa was aware that he did not buy her feigned shock._ Ah, it does not matter _, she decided and turned her attention to the King that luckily looked a tad shameful.

“And you”, she wheezed with a finger trained at him, “should have consulted with me first. I can not believe this happened. I am your advisor, Your Majesty. And I would have advised otherwise than for you to initiate a war”.

“If he had not”, Dijkstra defended the king, “Nilfgaard would have attacked us first. You know this, sorceress. It was only a matter of time”. 

“I apologize, my lady”, King Vizimir said with his palms resting on the war table. He wore an appropriate expression.“You are absolutely right — I should have consulted you first. At least I sent for you as fast as I could”. 

Philippa nodded slowly, as if she had to decide if the king was worthy of her forgiveness. It was all an act, of course - she was most content with his apology. Maybe she even had wished for this to happen?

“Call for your generals, Your Majesty”, she finally said and let a finger follow Redania’s boundaries on the map that lay unfolded on the table before her. “If the information you so generously shared with us, lord Dijkstra, is true, then I am sure they are headed for Cintra”. A small pause -- Philippa counted the seconds. She enjoyed the dramatic flair. “And because of that I understand your worry, Your Majesty. If they are successful in conquering Cintra, why would they stop there?”. 

Triss watched the scene from where she was confined to the shadows. She tried to swallow the lump that had grown in her throat, but it just moved down to her stomach where it grew bigger and heavier. A war against the Nilfgaardian Empire? It could be disastrous. A quick look at King Vizimir implied that he felt likewise, as the furrows around his mouth seemed to have deepened since she last saw him a few days earlier.

“I need to leave and assemble the Council. With their help, I will contact the rest of the Brotherhood”, Triss heard Philippa say. “We… _ you, _ can not win without the help of sorcerers, Your Majesty”. 

“The people will not like this”, Vizimir mumbled as he stroked his dark beard. “They fear mages”. 

“The people fear war”, Philippa replied curtly. “I think they can manage. It is you, after all, and not them, who rules this country”. Philippa let her lips curl in what she thought to be a reassuring smile. The shake of Dijkstra’s head told her that she had not managed, and she let the smile fade. Dijkstra knew as well as she that she just had said a modified truth. The King and to some extent the Queen had the last say, that was fact, but their minds were controlled by their advisors.

“Maybe this can change the public opinion of you all”, Vizimir thought out loud, still stroking his beard. “Ever since you showed Radovid those magic tricks of yours, he no longer fears your kind”. 

“Magic tricks?”, Sigismund huffed and crossed his arms. A pearl of sweat could be hinted on his brow. The hearths were lit and the layers of both clothes and adipose tissue insulated him. “That should have made the prince fear her even more”. 

“I said her _ kind _, Dijkstra”, Vizimir replied with a wan smile. “Not her”.

Philippa rolled her eyes, eager to leave the subject. “Yes, yes. I have to work on my charm as well as the war you just entered. Noted. Now, however, if you excuse me, I have a lot to do... As do you both, I imagine. Your Majesty, My Lord”. She inclined her head in a farewell to the two men, and spun around. She did not bother to send Triss a glance as they joined up by the door.

“Triss”, she then said after they left the room. “Would you like to have the honor of putting up a portal this time?”

“You do not have to work on your charm with me, mistress”. 

“Wonderful”. 

*

“Enlighten me, Triss. Tell me for how long you have been leashed to me?”

Philippa leaned her hip against her desk. The day had been long, and many calls had been made over the megascope since they returned to the castle. She had one call left, and it was the one to Yennefer. But before she could make that one, she had to speak with Triss Merigold.

“It must have been a little more than two years now”, Triss guessed. Her brows narrowed as she dared to raise her gaze from Philippa’s feet to her face. “Why… why are you asking me that, mistress?”

“Because this is the last conversation we hold, puppet, where you are my protegée. The world as we know it is about to change, and I am certain you will be able to adapt to it by now without my help or guidance. You have indeed proven yourself. From now on, Triss Merigold of Maribor, you are a full-fledged sorceress”. 

Philippa snapped with her fingers and with that the bond was broken. The pupil and mentor were no more, and Triss gasped for air as her hand grasped her chest. 

“No!”, she managed to sputter, “It is impossible. How can I --”

“Do not talk yourself down. We have spoken about that on multiple occasions. You have proved yourself from the start. I am quite amazed. Most need much more time than you”. 

Philippa looked quite earnest for once, Triss admitted astonished by the compliment. But it did not lighten her heavy chest. Maybe it was a case of some kind of separation anxiety or fear of abandonment -- Triss was unsure, but one thing she was absolutely certain at, was that she did not wish to leave. In Philippa, she had found some kind of… well, even Triss could admit that love was not the right word to choose. 

She had found acceptance, safety. Someone who comforted her, guided her. Philippa had been the first to ever show wholehearted interest in her. 

Maybe, Triss realized, it was that she had come to be dependant on Philippa, just as she once was on Yennefer. 

“Are you about to cry again?” Philippa let out a heavy sigh between her painted lips, and Triss could do nothing but shake her head. It took all her strength to pull back her jutting under lip.

Something in Philippa’s voice changed. It softened, and through watery eyes, Triss saw that Philippa had left the desk to approach her. It did not take long before Triss fell into Philippa’s not so quite open arms, and as always, it was a moment of stiffness before Philippa let her muscles relax into the embrace. 

Triss did not care that tears and snot defiled the shoulders on the expensive dress Philippa wore, and Philippa crinkled her nose in disgust when Triss could not see, reminding herself of cleaning it as fast she could.

“There, there”, Philippa said while beginning to awkwardly pat Triss’ back. As Triss continued to shiver from crying, Philippa carefully sat down on the floor, with Triss following her down, with her face still buried in her shoulder.

Philippa’s hand moved in slow, circular motions up from Triss’ back, along her neck and up to her hair. 

“You know”, Philippa said after a while, still massaging Triss’ scalp. “I will call Yennefer later, and tell her that she is to expect your arrival. But just because you won’t live here anymore, does not mean that you can not...”

“Visit?”, Triss finished the sentence, and turned to Philippa with a hopeful sparkle that contrasted against the tears glistening in her eyes. “I can visit?”

“... Yes”. Philippa kissed Triss’ freckled brow. “I still have plans for you, puppet. Whenever I look at you, I see potential”. 

“As I have said earlier, mistress. My hands are yours to control”.

“And your body mine to take?”

Triss could see the faint smirk that had crept onto Philippa’s lips.

“Always”, Triss nodded as she wiped her cheeks with the edge of her sleeve, with a small half smile breaking through. “Maybe… Maybe Yennefer’s call can wait?”. 

“No, puppet, it can not. She will hear the news from someone else but me, if so”. Philippa abruptly left the embrace and flexibly rose up from the floor with a surprising amount of elegance put in the motion. Triss suddenly felt completely alone and vulnerable as she still sat down on the floor, with a runny nose and what she presumed to be bloodshot eyes.

“You may go now, but I will let you stay until tomorrow”, Philippa said and with that, Triss knew that their conversation had ended. She gestured Triss to leave when she had not made an effort to move. After yet another gesture Triss admitted her defeat and dragged herself up. It was with slumped shoulders and her under lip jutting out, she finally obliged.

*

Triss sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the planks that made up the floor. She had counted them two times by now, and she had even tried to count all the flying critters that rested up on the ceiling, but Philippa had not yet entered her chamber. To be sure, Triss had reopened her window in case Philippa was out flying. No one had come for her. She was truly abandoned.

When she heard footsteps out in the hallway, she raised her head and listened, with a flicker of hope in her stomach. The flicker did not last long, she could tell immediately that it was not Philippa -- the confident stride she often possessed had a most unique sound as her heels clicked against the floor. Most certainly it was a servant that extinguished the oil lamps and candles. If it were to be a war, such luxuries would be expensive and hard to get a hold of, even for the king’s advisor.

Triss fell down on the bed she had spent the last two years in and grabbed a pillow. She hugged it fiercely as new, quiet tears began to stream down her face. She buried her face in it and she imagined she could smell the scent of wet down, so much like the scent that followed Philippa whenever she had been out flying in the rain. 

So many nights had been spent in there, that it was hard to imagine she was about to leave. Triss was not very fond of change - she had never had a single place in the world where she belonged, and every time she had allowed herself to settle in she had to move. She had tried not to settle in - in the beginning, it had been easy due to her and Philippa’s strained relationship, but now… 

Triss must have dozed off, because when she opened her eyes the sun shone in through the window. She stretched herself, enjoying the warmth the sun gave, for a split second oblivious that she in a matter of hours had to leave the place she had begin to call home. She then stiffened. Rhythmic breaths that did not belong to her was heard, and she rolled around. Hair black as night was draped over the pillow, and she jerked back as she almost lay down on it. 

Triss’ bed was not large, but somehow, Philippa had managed to place herself as far from Triss as possible. 

She held her breath, careful not to disturb her sleep. Why was she in her bed? Philippa had never before slept next to her. 

Philippa moved, and Triss was quick with closing her eyes, pretending to be asleep. The weight shifted in the bed, and Triss could tell by the sounds that Philippa was about to get up. A short exhale was heard, and Philippa’s feet crossed the planks. Clothes rustled - she was probably trying to get somewhat properly dressed. Then the shrieking door was opened, and with that, Philippa was gone. 

Triss reopened her eyes and fixed her gaze at a buzzing fly. A grin curled her lips, before a pearl of laughter erupted. 

Oh, Phil, Triss thought. You stayed until dawn.


End file.
